


Perfection Behind The Door

by FiveDollarMixtape



Category: Coraline (2009), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:57:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12709071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveDollarMixtape/pseuds/FiveDollarMixtape
Summary: Dewey wants to find out about his mother.  He wants to stand out from his brothers.When he finds a little door behind the wallpaper, his wishes come true.





	Perfection Behind The Door

The manor had quickly grown small for Dewey.

It sounded strange for him to even think of it- after all, he used to live in a houseboat, of all things- but when he was running around in all the rooms with his brothers and Webby, the manor seemed so much smaller than it actually was.

Well.   _Almost_ all of the rooms.

This new room was almost disappointing.  There was a boring painting with a boring boy, two leaky windows, and a few bumps under the cheap wallpaper.  It wasn’t like the garage; there were no headless horses or ghosts trapped in treasure chests.  The garage could be dangerous.  Why had their uncle hidden _this_ room from them from so long?

“Well, this is…” Huey trailed off, allowing the silence to speak for itself.

“Glad we got to see this,” Louie chimed in, dragging his eyes lazily across the room.  “The next fun new adventure, huh, Dewey?”

Dewey ignored his younger brother, crouching to examine the bumps in the wallpaper.  “There’s a door here,” he said happily, turning his head to look at the other three ducks in the room.  He was right after all- this _was_ their next adventure!

“It’s probably just a cupboard,” Huey argued.  “It’s too small for anything else.”

“But what’s in it?” Dewey asked.  “Webby, you’re with me on this, right?”

Webby shuffled her feet.  “I dunno…” she said.

“What if Uncle Scrooge has some kind of treasure in there?”

Instantly, the girl’s eyes lit up.  She dug into her pockets, pulling out a key ring.  Dewey knew better than to question how she got it.  Webby practically bounced towards the little door, trying a few different keys on the door before she found the one that worked.  She pulled open the door a bit too fast- Dewey let out a yelp as he jumped backwards to avoid being hit- and she drooped with disappointment.

“There’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Dewey leaned over the door.  He tilted his head in confusion at the sight of a brick wall.  “That doesn’t make sense.”

Webby shrugged her shoulders.  “Oh, well,” she said, looking down at the long, black key in her hand.  “I was wondering what that unlocked, anyways.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Dewey asked.  “It’s just bricks! Behind a door!”

“Uncle Scrooge probably had it blocked it off,” Huey said.

“He probably realized that no one could fit through it,” Louie added.  “Come on, let’s go do something else.”

Webby jumped to her feet.  “Oh, Cannonball Fury? Werewolves and More Boring Wolves?”

With one last look at the little door, Dewey followed after his brothers and Webby.  He paused mid-step, looking towards the corner of the room.  He could have sworn he saw something blue out of the corner of his eye for a second.  Webby poked her head back through the doorway.  “Are you coming, Dewey?” she asked.

He nodded.  “Yeah,” he said, running out after her.

* * *

“Dewey!” Webby’s eyes were wide as she stood at the doorway of his bedroom.  “Look what I found!” She walked up to him, shoving a doll in his face.  He leaned back, blinking at it.  Its eyes were black buttons, and it was made of a soft fabric.  It wore the same blue shirts that he did, and its hair was styled upwards in the same way his was.  

“That’s weird,” he said.  “It’s a Little Dewey.”

“I know, right?” she lowered the doll, looking at it closer.  “I’ve got some weird memories of a Little Webby doll like this one when I was younger, but I only had it for a little while before I lost it.”  She laughed a little.  “Hey, what if Little Webby _is_ Little Dewey?”

“That’d be cool,” Dewey agreed.

“Anyway, I don’t want to see a little you around my room all the time, so here.”  Webby pushed the doll into his hands.  

“Hey, wait-” Dewey began to argue, but Webby had already left.  He looked down at the doll again, and put it on his shelf.  Its head slumped, staring down at its legs.  He’d get rid of it soon.

* * *

Dewey opened his eyes to the sound of squeaking.  Drowsily, he turned his head towards the door of his bedroom, watching the tiny figure of a rodent.   _Is that… a mouse?_ He wondered, slowly sitting up in his bed.   _Do we even_ have _mice?_  

He assumed that Mrs. Beakley wouldn’t stand for rodents in her home, but maybe some slipped through the cracks sometimes.  It _was_ a manor, after all, there were a lot of rooms to manage.  He slipped onto the floor quietly, deciding not to tell the housekeeper- he could take care of it.  Mrs. Beakley would be happy that she wouldn’t have to worry about the creatures, and Uncle Scrooge would be happy he wouldn’t have to hire an exterminator.  

As soon as his feet touched the ground, the mouse lifted its head and stared at him for less than a second before bolting.  “Hey!” Dewey hissed, running after it.  The mouse made twists and turns that were quickly followed by its new shadow, before it turned into the previously-locked room.  The duck steadied himself with a hand on the doorway as he watched the mouse escape behind the little door.  He smiled- there was no way it was getting away from him, now.

Slowly, he crept towards the door, making sure the mouse didn’t hear him.  He positioned himself so that he blocked off the mouse’s escape before he pulled the door open.

There was no mouse.  There was no brick wall.  Instead, there was a tunnel, colored with blues and purples.  A warm gust of wind blew past him, rustling his feathers as a broad smile grew on his face.  He _knew_ that there was something behind the little door!  He was right!

He dropped to all fours, crawling through the tunnel.  It dipped under his weight as he went, and he had to climb over folds inside of it, but he still got to the other side of the tunnel without much difficulty.  He pushed open another little door and crawled onto the wooden floor behind it, pushing himself to his feet.  He found another, completely identical room.  

He crossed his arms and frowned.   _This is disappointing,_ he thought, looking at the leaky windows and boring painting, before he noticed something.  The room wasn’t as identical as he thought.  The leaky windows weren’t so leaky anymore, and the boring boy in the painting wasn’t as boring.  

Dewey took off running, his feet pounding against the floor.  “Huey? Louie?” he yelled.  “Webby?”  He opened the doors to their empty bedrooms and checked in their favorite places.  He raced outside, not bothering to close the doors behind him or minding the fact that it was the middle of the night.  Maybe they were in the houseboat with Uncle Donald?

He didn’t have to venture far into the garden to figure it out.  There they were, all three of them, standing with their backs turned to him and heads hunched as they whispered.  “Guys!” he yelled.  “What’re you doing out here?” he asked.  All three turned to look at him in tandem, broad smiles on their faces.  Dewey felt the blood drain from his face.

They had black buttons for eyes.

“Dewey!” Huey and Louie shouted, racing towards him.  Louie gripped his arm when he got close enough.  

“I knew you’d find us soon,” Huey said.  “You’re too smart _not_ to find us!”

For a few seconds, Dewey’s mouth opened and closed with no sound coming out of it.  Finally, he was able to spit out “You- your eyes…”

“The buttons?” Louie asked.  He nodded.

“We’re your Other Brothers,” Huey explained.  “Other Huey and Other Louie.  That’s Other Webby,” he nudged the girl with his elbow.  Other Webby lifted a hand, waving to him.

Other Louie tugged on his sleeve.  “Come on, Other Uncle Donald and Mom are waiting for you!”

Dewey stumbled as he was pulled along.  “Mom?” he repeated.  

“Other Louie, that was supposed to be a surprise!” Other Huey told him.  Something in his tone sounded different from how Huey- the _real_ Huey- usually berated his brothers.  Other Louie narrowed his button eyes, his face curling into a scowl.  

“Well, look at how happy he is!” he argued hotly, gesturing to Dewey with his head.

Despite his confusion, a smile was curling itself on his beak.  “ _Mom_ is here?”

Other Louie nodded his head.  “Let’s go, let’s go!” he said, pulling on his sleeve.  This time, Dewey didn’t hesitate to follow.  Other Webby followed after them, as silent as a shadow.  After a few moments of watching, Other Huey followed.

Thoughts whirled around in Dewey’s mind.  Is _this_ where their mother had gone? Is this why him and his brothers had been left in Uncle Donalds care? And if this was truly where their mother had gone, is that why Uncle Scrooge locked the door from them for so long?

The group of ducks stopped behind two ducks.  One, Dewey easily knew- he could recognize his uncle and his sailor suit anywhere.  The second was foreign to him, but he’d stared at her picture enough to know her.  

“Mom?” he called.  He couldn’t describe the feeling he had when she turned, revealing her button eyes.  She smiled broadly at him.

“Hello, Dewey!” she said, taking a few steps closer to him before crouching down to his height.  “I’m your Other Mother.”

Dewey looked around at his Other Brothers, at Other Webby, at Other Uncle Donald, before his eyes went back to his Other Mother.  “I have all these… others?” he asked.

The Other Mother nodded her head.  “Everyone does,” she said.  She held her hand out to him.  “What do you say we go on an adventure?”

Dewey didn’t hesitate to take her hand.  The button eyes everyone had didn’t seem as scary anymore.

* * *

“Just a plane ride?” Webby questioned, pausing her search of the ground to look at Dewey.  “That sounds pretty boring.”

“She’s right,” Louie nodded his head as he spoke, leaning out of the metal tower.  “I mean, Uncle Scrooge took us to Atlantis for our first adventure, and your dream took you on a _plane ride_?”

“She let me pilot the plane!” Dewey argued.

“Uncle Donald would never let you do that,” Huey said.

“But _Other_ Uncle Donald did!” Dewey told him.  “He encouraged it!”

“Where’s that well you guys were talking about?” Webby asked, jumping onto another spot of the sandy ground.  

“If you land too hard, you’re going to fall in it!” Huey exclaimed, his voice worried as he rushed up to her.

“What?” Webby looked down at her feet, noticing some of the old wood under the sand.  She stepped off of it.  Dewey walked a bit closer, watching as Huey brushed off some more sand and knocked on the wood, listening to the echoing thumps.

“People at school told us that it’s so deep, if you fell in it and looked up, you’d see a sky full of stars in the middle of the day,” Louie said, sliding down the slide of the metal tower and approaching the group.  

“Really?” Webby asked.

“That’s just what they say,” Huey said.  “Obviously it’s not true.”

“Why’d they put a playground over it?”

Louie and Huey shrugged their shoulders.

“About my dream-” Dewey began, before he was cut off.

“Your dream was weird,” Webby told him with a nod of her head, “but it’s boring when you talk about it.”  Louie nodded his head in agreement, shoving his hands into his hoodie’s pockets.  

Dewey frowned.   _Other Webby would listen to me,_ he thought.   _So would my Other Brothers._

* * *

“You don’t talk much, Other Webby,” Dewey said, lowering his licked-clean plate that once held the largest slice of cake.  “You don’t break stuff, either- the Webby back home does that all the time.”

“I thought you’d like her more if she did that less,” the Other Mother said from her place at the head of the table.  “So I fixed her.”

Dewey nodded, a smile on his face.  “Cool,” he said.

“Another round of capture the flag?” Other Uncle Donald suggested.  “Whoever gets the flag first gets to keep the treasure on our next adventure!”  All of the ducklings cheered- even Other Webby silently stuck her fist into the air with a broad grin on her beak.  Other Louie tugged on his sleeve.

“Can I be on your team this time?” he asked.

“No, I’m gonna be on his team again,” Other Huey said, crossing his arms.

“You were on his the last two games we played,” Other Louie shot back.  “I’m gonna be on his, now.  Right, Dewey?” he asked, turning his head to look at him.  

“Neither of you will be on Dewey’s team,” the Other Mother said, standing up from her chair with a smirk on her face.  “Other Webby and I will be.”  Other Webby happily nodded her head.  The Other Brothers turned their glares onto the girl, but she didn’t seem to notice as she rose from her seat and rushed over to Dewey.  He stood, running out of the room with Other Webby and the Other Mother, laughs escaping him.

At some point, Other Webby and Dewey were separated from the Other Mother.  Dewey turned his head to look at her.  “It didn’t hurt, did it?” he asked.  “When she-” he was cut off when she gently smacked his arm, pointing at Other Uncle Donald as he crept around the corner.  Dewey watched with laughter as the Other Mother appeared from behind him and tackled him to the ground.

* * *

The Other Mother tucked his blanket up to his chin, a sweet smile on her face.  “Good night, Dewey,” she said.

“Sweet dreams,” Other Uncle Donald added from his place at her shoulder.

“The real world is never as fun as here, right?” the Other Mother asked after a few seconds of silence.  

Dewey nodded his head, letting out a yawn.  “Yeah,” he agreed.

“Good,” the Other Mother said, rising to her feet and turning out the light.  “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Dewey stopped telling his brothers and Webby about his dreams.  They didn’t seem to care about them, anyways.

He found himself comparing his real brothers to his Other Brothers, Webby to Other Webby, and Uncle Donald to Other Uncle Donald.  He wished that the people in the real world acted more like the ones in the Other world.  He wondered what an Other Launchpad would be like, or an Other Mrs. Beakley, or an Other Uncle Scrooge.  Most of all, he wondered if his real mother was like the Other Mother. 

He turned his head to look at the Little Dewey sitting on his shelf, staring at him.  Really, he should have gotten rid of it by now.

* * *

Dewey met Other Mrs. Beakley the first time in the kitchen- which didn’t surprise him too much.  What _did_ surprise him was her offering of candy. 

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Other Mrs. Beakley nodded her head.  “Take it,” she said with a wide smile.  His Other Brothers already eating the offered chocolate and Other Webby stashed hers in her pocket for later.  Dewey took one, tearing off the wrapper and popping it into his mouth.

“Thanks, Mrs. Beakley,” Louie said from his place next to Dewey, clinging onto his arm.  It was something that Dewey was quickly growing used to.

“You’re welcome, dear,” Other Mrs. Beakley said.  “Now, I heard that Launchpad was looking for you.”

Dewey blinked.  “You mean the _Other_ Launchpad,” he said.

“The _better_ Launchpad.”  She laughed like it was the best joke she’d heard all day.  When his Other Brothers laughed along, and Other Webby’s beak curled into a larger smile, Dewey joined in.

“Come on, Dewey!” Huey began, “Let’s go find Launchpad!” Already, he was making his way out of the kitchen.  Dewey nodded his head, following after his Other Brother.  He stopped when he didn’t feel Other Louie walking with him, keeping his arm close to his chest.  Dewey looked over his shoulder at him.  

“Are you coming?” he asked.  Other Louie brightened a little.

“Yup!” he said, taking a quick step to catch up to him.  Other Webby followed a few steps behind the two, as silent as she ever was.

* * *

The group found Other Launchpad in the garden.  He wasn’t what Dewey was expecting, to say the least.  As soon as he saw him, Dewey had a weird feeling.  He held himself differently from the Launchpad he was used to, appearing much smaller than he actually was.   

“Hey, Other Launchpad!” Dewey called, lifting a hand to wave.  “What do you say we go somewhere?”

Other Launchpad quickly shook his head.  “Oh no, no,” he said just as quickly.  “That’s her terrain.  She’ll get mad if I go there.”

Dewey tilted his head in confusion.  “What?” he asked.  “Why would she get mad? Who’s she?”

“I always mess it up,” Other Launchpad said, wringing his hands.  He didn’t answer Dewey’s second question.  

Dewey turned his head when Other Webby tapped his shoulder.  She moved her hands as if she was holding a gun, her eyes narrowed in concentration.  “Death Darts?” Dewey asked.  Other Webby nodded her head.  He turned back to Other Launchpad.  “Want to play?”

Other Launchpad shook his head slowly.  “No.”

“But Mrs. Beakley said you were looking for us!” Other Huey said.

Dewey leaned forward a bit in concern.  “Are you okay, Other Launchpad?”

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“I’m your best friend!”

Slowly, as if it was dawning on him, Other Launchpad nodded.  “She said I was,” he murmured.

Other Louie tugged on his sleeve.  “C’mon, Dewey, let’s leave him alone,” he said.

“But-”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Other Huey said, pushing him forward and away from the older duck.

* * *

Dewey watched as Huey walked towards his bedroom, but he didn’t move.  Instead, he set his head on his knees, thoughts swirling in his mind. 

Waddle proved that Dewey needed Huey and Louie.  He needed Huey’s intellect and planning, he needed Louie’s silver tongue and cunning, he even needed Webby’s… _niche_ skills.  The Other Brothers and Other Webby couldn’t offer him that, but they were just dreams, right?

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to remember dreams so clearly.  And, if it was his mind making everything perfect for him, why was Other Launchpad so depressed?

“Something wrong, lad?”

Dewey turned to look at Uncle Scrooge, who was watching him from the doorway of the room.  He shook his head.  “Just thinking, Uncle Scrooge,” he said.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” his great uncle told him before continuing down the hall.

Not for the first time, he wondered what an Other Uncle Scrooge would be like.

* * *

“Is that a tightrope?” Dewey asked, his eyes wide.  The Other Mother nodded her head. 

“Want to try it?” she asked.

He tilted his head up to look at her and Other Uncle Donald.  “Can I?” he asked.

Other Uncle Donald nodded his head.  “As long as you have fun!” he said.  Dewey smiled, and with Other Louie clinging to his arm (as he always was) and Other Webby on his heels (as she always was), he ran into the manor and to the second floor.

With the help of Other Webby, he opened the window where the tightrope started.  He climbed onto the sill, his arms extended outwards.  His eyes narrowed as he looked out at the end of the tightrope- a pole with a circular, wooden floor.  He took his first step onto the rope, feeling it bend under his weight.

Wind blew around him and howled in his ears.  Other Huey, Other Louie, the Other Mother, and Other Uncle Donald all cheered for him, but he tuned out the sounds from them as he concentrated on his steps.  He leaned to one side when he started tipping to the other, but he was only about three fourths of the way across the tightrope when he fell.

He didn’t know if he screamed as he fell.  What he did know was that he landed in the Other Mother’s arms, and was set on his feet easily.  She crouched down to his level, looking him over for any injuries.  When she deemed that he was fine, she kept her hands on his shoulders.

Suddenly angry, Dewey glared at the other version of his uncle.  “Why didn’t you help me? I almost died, Other Uncle Donald!”

He nodded his head.  “Yeah! It was fun, wasn’t it?” He let out an exclamation of pain when the Other Mother stepped on his foot, but that didn’t stop the shiver that went down Dewey’s spine.  The Other Mother took her hands off of Dewey’s shoulders, moving to stand next to Other Uncle Donald.  

“I have a surprise for you,” she said.  “Come with me.”  She led the way into the manor, away from Other Uncle Donald and Other Huey.  

She sat him down in the dining room, at the head of the table.  Already, there was a present box waiting for him.  He pulled the blue and orange box closer to him, lifting the lid of off it.  He tilted his head in confusion when he saw the buttons, needle, and a spool of thread inside, looking up at the Other Mother.

“Black is traditional,” she said.  “But you can get it in red, or green or blue.”  Her button eyes flashed the colors she suggested as she listed them.  His confusion grew as she spoke.

“What?”

“I want you to stay here with me, Dewey,” the Other Mother explained.  “You’re my favorite.”

“But mothers don’t have favorites.”

For the first time, her smile unsettled him.  “It’s all about you.  I thought that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” She reached out and lifted the needle from the box.  “I need a ‘yes’ if you want to stay.”

 _I’m not letting her sew buttons into my eyes!_ He thought, alarm flooding through him.  “I, uh,” Dewey began, “I wanna go for a walk.”

The Other Mother nodded her head.  “Of course.  Think it through, Dewey.”  

Dewey quickly rose from his seat, and left the room as quick as he could.  When he walked through the halls, no one could be found, and there was no one in the garden, either.

He paused, staring at the rustling of the bushes.  He crouched, eyes narrowed, before sticking his hand into the bush and pulling out a familiar little robot.  “Hey, I know you,” he said.  “You chased Louie around the Money Bin.  Well, the real you.  I guess you’re the Other you.”

“I’m not the _other_ anything,” it said, voice robotic.  “I’m me.”

Dewey let out a yelp, dropping the little robot.  It landing on its feet, but it crossed its arms and managed to look up angrily up at him.  “Sorry,” he said.  The little robot- Lil Bulb, he remembered Louie told him- didn’t seem to forgive him.  “You don’t have button eyes- any eyes, actually, but if you’re the same robot, how can you talk?”

“I just can,” Lil Bulb said, beginning to wander down the path.  Dewey rose to his feet and followed him.

“You can’t talk at home.”

“I can’t?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you’re clearly the expert on these things, aren’t you?” Lil Bulb asked.  “You must have it on good authority from your brother.  After all, he had me look for a dime for him all day because he couldn’t be bothered.”

Dewey cringed.  “Louie can be a bit… lazy sometimes,” he agreed, “but he’s not always bad.  He could just use some improvement?” he tried.  Lil Bulb let out a metallic hum.  “How’d you get here?”

“We’ve been coming here for a while,” Lil Bulb said.  “Me and Gyro’s other creations, that is.”  He disappeared into an opening into the bushes, only to reappear from the other side of the path.  Dewey felt his eyes widen.  “It’s a game we play,” Lil Bulb continued.  “He hates robots, and tries to keep us out.  But he can’t, of course.  We come and go as we please.”

“Other Uncle Donald hates robots?” Dewey asked.

“Other Uncle Donald?” Lil Bulb asked.  “I was thinking it would be Other Uncle Scrooge for you.”

“I haven’t met an Other Uncle Scrooge.”

“What?” The little robot seemed surprised- as surprised as a robot could be, at least.  “Then who’s the head of the family?”

“The Other Mother, I think,” Dewey said.  “She offered to sew buttons into my eyes.”

“ _Don’t_ do it,” Lil Bulb nearly hissed.  He nodded his head.

“I wasn’t going to.”  Dewey kept going down the path, making his way towards the gates.  “I’m hoping to find another way out of here.”

“The only other way out of here is through the door and waking up in your world,” Lil Bulb said, walking next to him.  “Unless you’re like me, of course, but you’re not.”

Dewey shrugged his shoulders.  “It doesn’t hurt to try, does it?” he asked.  He cast a quick glance over his shoulder.  “And it’ll keep me away from them.”  There was silence until they reached the gate.  Dewey wrapped his hands around the cold metal bars, staring out into the white nothing.

“There’s nothing there,” he said.

“He only made up to here,” Lil Bulb said.  “That was what would impress you, and all the others.”

“But why?” Dewey asked, looking down at the little robot.  “I don’t even know who _he_ is.”

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore, now that there’s the _Other Mother_ ,” his metallic tone was mocking.  “But it’s the same reason.  They love something to eat.”

Dewey scoffed.  “Mothers don’t eat sons.”

“I don’t know.  How do you taste?” Lil Bulb’s chuckle was disturbing.

Dewey took a deep breath.  “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

Dewey opened his eyes, quickly jolting up from his bed.  He smiled- he was home, and he wasn’t going back to the Other World.  He got up and rushed to the window, only to see a full moon and stars hanging in the sky. 

No one would let him sleep all day at home, but he’d never seen the sun in the Other World.  His face fell.  He started to pace around his room, running a hand through his hair.   _Okay, Dewey,_ he thought, _what would Huey do?_

Lil Bulb told him that the only way out of this world- for him, at least- was to go to sleep or through the little door.  So he had to go through the little door.  That didn’t seem too hard, Dewey could do that.

He left his room.  No one was in the hallways- there was no Other Louie to cling to his arm or no Other Webby to follow him like a second shadow.  He made his way towards the room with the little door, hoping that no one would appear from around a corner.

The door was closed, unlike usual.  The door was also locked, unlike usual.   _Okay, so what would Huey do now?_ Dewey thought.  That wasn’t even a question- he’d go to Uncle Donald.  He didn’t want to go to Other Uncle Donald.  He got the feeling that Other Mrs. Beakley wouldn’t take him seriously, but Other Launchpad might.  He went in search of the Other World’s version of his best friend.

Unfortunately, he found him with Other Uncle Donald.  Dewey took a deep breath before he stepped into the room.  

“I want to go home,” he said, crossing his arms.  Neither replied.  “Did you hear me?” he asked.

“It’ll be better when Della’s refreshed,” Other Launchpad said, not looking up at him.  “Her strength is our strength.”

Other Uncle Donald smacked the back of his head, making him let out a yelp.  “We’re not supposed to talk when Della isn’t here,” he said, his voice clearer than it had been before.  

“Then I’m gonna find Other Webby.  She’ll help me.”  Before he could start to leave, Other Launchpad spoke again.

“No point,” he said.  “She pulled a long face,” he used his hands to pull down the corners of his mouth into an impossibly large frown.  “Della wasn’t happy about it.”  Other Uncle Donald smacked him again, harder this time.  Dewey took off running.

 _Okay, that didn’t work,_ he thought, heading back to the room with the little door.   _So what would Louie do?_

“You’re still here,” a metallic voice noted.  Dewey almost jumped, but a small smile grew on his face.   _That’s what Louie would do._

“I need your help,” he said.  “I fell asleep last night, but I woke up here, so now I have to go through the little door.”

“But?” Lil Bulb pressed.

“The door’s locked.  Can you unlock it?”

If the little robot had eyes, Dewey assumed they would have narrowed.  “Usually, I wouldn’t,” he said, “but I’d call this a special circumstance.”

They stopped in front of the room with the little door.  Dewey let Lil Bulb climb into his hand, and lifted him up to the lock.  The robot quickly picked it, making the door swing open.  He was gone before Dewey could thank him.

Light from the hallway illuminated the little door, but when Dewey took his first step inside the room, a cabinet that looked suspiciously like a cockroach moved in front of it.  Starting with the cabinet, the rest of the room’s furniture (all bug themed) and walls (also bug themed) illuminated the rest of the room.  It made his skin crawl.

“They say that even the proudest spirit can be broken with love,” the Other Mother stated from her place on the sofa, which was moving to face Dewey.  An armchair- one that he hadn’t noticed moving- came up from behind him and forced his legs out from under him.  It brought him closer to the Other Mother.  “Of course, chocolate never hurts,” she added once she was across from him.  She held out a box of moving, roach-like chocolates to him.  “Would you like one?”  Dewey quickly shook his head.

“Well, I guess they’re not to everyone’s taste,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.  She took one from the box and bit off its head.  The body still moved.  Dewey felt himself cringe.

“I want to go home,” Dewey said.  “I want you to let me go!” he added, his eyes narrowing as he spoke.

The Other Mother threw away the rest of the piece of chocolate, setting her hands on her hips.  “Is that any way to talk to your mother?” she asked.

“You’re _not_ my mother,” Dewey growled, leaning forward in his seat.

“You’ll apologize for that, Dewey.”

“No.”

“I’ll give you to the count of three,” she said.  Dewey stayed silent.  “One,” she began, beginning to grow taller and thinner.  “Two,” she said, bags growing under her eyes.  Dewey leaned back in his seat to get away from her.  “Three!” she practically shrieked, grasping his beak with sharp fingers.

“Ow!” he exclaimed as he was pulled from the room.  He was dragged down the hallways and into Uncle Scrooge’s- _Other Uncle Scrooge’s?_ he briefly wondered- study.  “That hurts!”

The Other Mother let go of his beak, picking him up by his torso and throwing him into the mirror.  He expected to feel a sharp pain, but he only felt cold.  He opened his eyes to see the Other Mother- her new narrow, sunken in face and long arms the only parts of her in the room.  

“You may come out when you’ve learned to be a loving son,” she said, before she pulled herself out of the room.  Dewey pushed himself to his feet, letting out a shout as he pounded the wall with his fists.

“That’s not going to get you anywhere,” a familiar voice said.  Dewey froze, slowly turning his head to look behind him.

He was standing in a version of the archives.  It was covered in cobwebs and there was no light to be seen, except from one flickering light bulb hanging from a string.  Other Uncle Scrooge stood with his arms crossed and an open book in his hands.

He raised a brow at him.  “You’re not the girl she was going for,” he said.  “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Why should I tell you?” Dewey asked.  “You’re just gonna try and keep me here, like everyone else.”

Other Uncle Scrooge shook his head.  “No, not anymore,” he said.  “She locked me in here so that she could take over.”

“The Other Mother?”

“The Beldam,” he corrected.  He looked down at the book in his hands and turned the page.  “She saw what you wanted through the doll, then made a fantasy world for you here.”

 _Doll…_ Dewey thought.   _The little me!_  “I knew I should’ve gotten rid of that thing,” he mumbled to himself.  Other Uncle Scrooge ignored him.  “Why are you telling me?” Dewey asked.

“I used to it, until she locked me here,” he told him.  “You’re the first child she’s tried this on.”

“She’s not doing a good job.”

“No, she’s not,” Other Uncle Scrooge agreed.  He dug one of his hands into his pockets, before he took out four marbles and held them out to Dewey.  “Here.  Take these."

“What are they?” Dewey asked, taking a few steps closer to get a better look.

“Eyes,” he said.  “From when I sewed the buttons onto other children.”

“What?” the young duck nearly shrieked, feeling his feathers stand on end.

“Take them back to your world and their souls will be freed,” Other Uncle Scrooge explained.

“Why would you do that?” Dewey asked.  “I’ve seen enough superhero movies to know that’s not what the bad guy does.”

The former Beldam rolled his eyes.  “Trust me, it’s nothing as noble as you’re thinking,” he promised.  “I don’t have a long time to live.  I’ve been surviving on whatever is left in these eyes.  If I’m going to die now, I’m going to die on my own terms.”

Hesitantly, Dewey took the marbles from Other Uncle Scrooge before he quickly took a few steps back.  He didn’t have time to say anything else before one hand wrapped around his beak and another around his torso, pulling him out of the room.

He struggled, pushing and kicking, but that didn’t do much to whoever was holding him.  He was let go with a grunt, and he turned around to see Other Webby with twist-ties holding her mouth in a permanent, too-wide smile.  “Webby?” he asked, un-twisting the ties and pulling them out of her face.  Other Webby lifted her hands to her cheeks and rubbed them, as if she was returning feeling to them.  “Did she do that to you?” he asked.  She didn’t respond.  “Well, I hope that feels-”

Other Webby shushed him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back towards the room with the little door.  Dewey was surprised, but he didn’t argue.  Together, the two pushed over the cabinet.

 _“Dewey?”_ the Beldam called.   _“Is that you?”_

“Let’s go!” Dewey hissed, opening the little door.  He let out a tiny gasp when he found the tunnel full of cobwebs, and other things that he didn’t even want to think about.  

 _“Dewey?”_ As the Beldam spoke, the tunnel rattled.

Dewey looked back at Other Webby.  “Come on,” he said.  “She’ll hurt you again.”  Other Webby shook her head, lifting a hand and blowing it away as if it were dust.

 _“Dewey, how dare you disobey your mother!”_ the Beldam said, her footsteps coming down the hall.  Other Webby pushed Dewey into the tunnel, closing the little door behind him.  Hearing one last, muffled call of the Beldam behind him as his encouragement, he crawled through the tunnel.

* * *

The manor had never felt so empty.   

He was used to being surrounded by people- whether it be with his brothers or Webby, he hadn’t really been alone since he’d moved into his new home.  Now, though, it was empty.  There was no one in the bedrooms, there was no one in the study, there was no one in the lounge, there was no one in the houseboat.

Except, of course, for him and Lil Bulb, who was sitting on the dining room table, kicking his legs beneath him.

“Do you know where they are?” he asked.  Lil Bulb nodded his head, lifting his arm and pointing his finger towards the painting in the room.  Discoloration appeared on the edges of a large painting, slowly creeping inwards.  At the center, sat Huey, Louie, and Webby, all shivering and blocking his view of the rest of the room but he was sure that everyone else was there.  Huey leaned forward, his hand shaking, as he wrote ‘HELP US’ into the discoloration before the image disappeared.

Dewey looked down at Lil Bulb.  “How did this happen?” he asked.  The robot pushed himself off of the table and landed gracefully on the floor.  He led the way out of the dining room and out of the manor, to the houseboat.  He brought Dewey to Uncle Donald’s bed, pulling a doll out from under it.  

He felt his heart sink as he looked at the miniature version of his uncle.  “It wasn’t a dream,” he murmured to himself.  “She has them.”

* * *

While the doll was burning, Dewey gathered everything he needed.  He left the eyes on his nightstand, not wanting the Beldam to take them from him.  He got the key to the little door from Webby’s room, the button on the end of it mocking him.  Just in case, he brought Webby’s grappling hook- he was sure she wouldn’t mind, especially if it saved them in the end.  He put all the items in the empty briefcase from Waddle. 

With a deep breath, he opened the little door and crawled through the tunnel, Lil Bulb at his side. 

“You know you’re walking into a trap,” Lil Bulb said.

“I _have_ to go back,” Dewey argued, not moving his eyes from the other little door ahead of him.  “They’re my family.”

“Challenge her then,” the robot suggested.  “She won’t play fair, but she won’t refuse.  She’s got a thing for games.”

Dewey hummed.  “Okay,” he said.  Lil Bulb paused.  When the door opened on the other side, he went back towards the door behind them.  Dewey kept crawling forward, not wanting to be intimidated.

As soon as he was on his feet on the other side of the door, the Beldam spoke.  “Darling, why would you run away from me?”

“Where’s my family?” Dewey asked, crossing his arms.

“Gosh, I have no idea where your _old_ family is,” the Beldam said.  “Maybe they’ve grown bored of you, and run away to France.”

“They weren’t bored of me!” Dewey argued hotly.  “You stole them!”

The Beldam’s eyes narrowed, and she held up one long, pointed finger.  “Don’t be difficult, Dewey.  Have a seat, won’t you?” Her lips curled into a smile with too many teeth.

Hands gripped him from behind, making Dewey yelp in surprise.  Other Uncle Donald, now much rounder and his face longer, sat him down in a bug-like arm chair.  The Beldam walked over to the little door, clapping her hands.  A rat ran out of the tunnel with the key in its mouth- Dewey hadn’t even realized he dropped it.  She closed and locked the door, the cabinet in front of it once more, before swallowing the key.

“Why don’t you have your own key?” Dewey asked as she walked back towards him.

“There’s only one key,” Other Uncle Donald said, his voice clear.  The Beldam shushed him.  

“The plane needs to be cleaned, don’t you think?” she asked, dragging him out of the room by his arms.  “Why don’t you and Launchpad take care of that.”

* * *

Other Louie and Other Huey were silent as they sat on either side of him.  The buttons the Beldam wanted to sew into his eyes were in front of him, sitting neatly in their box.  The Beldam tapped her fingers at the head of the table, while Other Mrs. Beakley cooked.

 _You can do this, Dewey,_ he thought.   _You have to do this._  “Why don’t we play a game?” he asked.  The Beldam stopped tapping her fingers, and his Other Brothers lifted their heads.  “I know you like them.”

“Everybody likes games,” she agreed.  “What kind of game would it be?”

“A finding things game.”

The Beldam continued to tap her fingers.  “And what is it, exactly, that you’d be finding?”

“My real family.”

“Too easy,” she argued.

 _What would Louie say?_ Dewey thought.  “It’s a big house,” he argued.  “Lots of rooms, lots of places to be overlooked.”  He looked at the fake Huey and Louie at his sides.  “And they wouldn’t be able to help me.”

The Beldam leaned forward.  “What if you don’t find them?”

“I’ll…” Dewey trailed off, his eyes going to the buttons.  “I’ll stay here and let you love me.”  He let out a sigh, hesitating before he spoke again, but he had to make her let him play the game.  “And I’ll let you sew buttons into my eyes.”

She gave him a closed-mouth smile.  “And if you _somehow_ win this game?”

“Then you let me go, and you let my family- my _real_ family go.”

The Beldam rose to her feet.  “Deal,” she said, holding out her hand.

 _Louie always asks for clues._  “Not until you give me a clue.”

She smirked, lifting a sharp-nailed finger to tap at one of her button eyes.  

 _Fine,_ Dewey thought.   _I’ve always been good at games, anyways._ “Deal.”

The Other Brothers stood up from their chairs and walked out of the room.  Other Huey paused, looking back at him for a second, before continuing silently after Other Louie.

“Go on, then,” the Beldam said, fingers tapping.  “You don’t have long.”

Dewey stood and left the dining room, picking up his suitcase from the floor.  He knew that the Other Mother wouldn’t make it easy for him, so he decided to check the most dangerous rooms in the manor first.  

* * *

Dewey gave the mirror in Uncle Scrooge’s study one long look before he searched the room.  He wasn’t sure how dangerous this room would be- after all, his uncle’s space was his uncle’s space- but he wouldn’t be surprised if something was kept in here.  

He was disappointed to find that there wasn’t.  He walked out of the room, only to find Other Mrs. Beakley standing in the hallway.

“Other Mrs. Beakley?” Dewey questioned, taking a step back.  

“I’ve been told to get in your way, dear,” she said with a giggle.

“Oh,” he said, put off and confused by her laughter.  “Well, have fun with that.”  He turned and started running.  He could hear her following behind him, but she wasn’t as fast as the real Mrs. Beakley.  He took Webby’s grappling hook out of the suitcase as he ran into Other Huey’s room.

He backed into a corner, watching as Other Mrs. Beakley got closer.  His eyes darted around the room, looking for something he could use against her, before he aimed the grappling hook at the bookshelf, firing it and pulling on the rope as hard as he could.  It fell, bringing Other Mrs. Beakley down with it.

* * *

 Other Webby’s room was a lot like the real Webby’s room.  There was a lot of things that he expected to find in Webby’s room, like another grappling hook and rope.  The only difference was her clothes hung up on the corkboard that used to be dedicated to the McDuck family.

“I’m not scared of you, you evil witch!” Dewey yelled into the halls before he searched the room.

There was nothing in the drawers, and besides Other Webby’s clothes, nothing on the corkboard.  There was nothing sitting on the desk, either, and there was nothing between the books on the bookshelf.  He looked out the window and saw half of a button covering the moon, and more of it was steadily moving across its surface.

Dewey left the room with one last look at the corkboard.  Maybe he couldn’t save Other Webby, but he could save the real Webby.

* * *

Webby once called the garage the Wing of Secrets.  It was full of old treasures and things Uncle Scrooge had collected over the years, and Dewey was nervous as he stepped inside.  He didn’t have much time left to find his family.  He could only hope that they were in here.

He walked past all the probably cursed objects that could attack him at any moment, especially if the Beldam wanted to waste his time.  He looked behind boxes and under Montezuma’s stack of old magazines.  

Dewey only saw it out of the corner of his eye at first.  It was just the same as before- Uncle Donald swinging on a rope and Uncle Scrooge fighting a pirate with the corner pulled away from the rest of the frame.  But when he turned to look at it, discoloration crept in from the sides and stopped towards the center.  Again, Dewey could see Huey, Louie, and Webby, but this time he could see Uncle Donald behind them.  

He took Webby’s grappling hook and used one of the hooks to cut the painting out of the frame.  He rolled it up with a large smile on his face- he did it! He saved them!

Starting from under his feet, white crawled outwards and turned everything it touched the pale color with a strange, almost frost-like sound.  The floor started to disappear- being pushed upwards and disintegrating into the air.  Dewey started running before the floor under him could disappear.

* * *

“You found them,” Lil Bulb said from his place in front of the room with the little door.  Dewey lifted up the suitcase where he had stored the painting, nodding his head.  “Ready to meet her again?” 

Dewey took a deep breath, putting his open hand on the door knob and turning it.  “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”  He opened the door and stepped inside.  Wallpaper curled up the walls and the roach-themed furniture found itself unable to move, but not for a lack of trying.  Dewey turned his attention to the Beldam, and to her sofa.

“So,” she said, green light illuminating the room and her changed figure.  “You’re back.”

She was now even more tall and thin than she was before.  Her feathers were missing, and her skin was like broken porcelain.  Her hands were made of needles, and sharp pieces of something that looked like bone made up her chest- _more like ribcage,_ he corrected himself.

“And you brought vermin with you,” she noted, pointing one needle finger at Lil Bulb.

Dewey shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “I brought a friend.”

The Beldam raised herself to her full, imposing height.  “You _know_ I love you,” she said, drawing out the words.  She reached forward and tapped at his beak with two of her fingers.

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“So, where are they?” the Beldam asked.  “Your _old_ family?” Dewey lifted the suitcase in his hand, pulling it away when she reached for it.   _What would Huey do? What would Louie do?_ He thought, his mind racing.  He caught sight of the glowing lights behind the little door and the cabinet.

“I won the game,” he said.  “You have to let us go now.”

“So you have,” she said, “so you have.”  She held her hand open, coughing up the key before holding it precariously in two fingers, swinging it from side to side to taunt him.  “But I’m not quite sure if I’m going to let you go.”

 _No, this is a ‘what would Dewey do’ situation._  Dewey picked up Lil Bulb from the ground.  “Yes, you are!” he yelled, throwing the robot at the Beldam.  He could apologize later.  The key fell to the ground as she tried to peel the robot off of her face, and Dewey raced forward to pick it up.  

He raced back to the cabinet, pushing against it as hard as he could until it fell.  He shoved the key into the lock, but the wooden floor disappeared from under him- much like the one in the garage- before he could turn it.  He found himself clinging to ladder-like and spider web-like wall that had been created, climbing up it to get to the little door.  He didn’t look behind him to see where the Beldam was.  He didn’t want to.

He pulled himself into the tunnel, pulling the key out of the door before slamming it shut behind him.  He locked the other side of the Other World’s little door.  He sat back and breathed, taking in as much air as he could.  Then the tunnel started getting smaller and smaller, accompanied by the screeches of the Beldam, making him stumble to his feet and race to the other side of the tunnel.

He rolled out onto the floor of the room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.  He held the key tightly in his hand, lying back and panting.  He heard Webby talking in the hall.

* * *

Dewey walked into his room that night with a grin on his face.  They were all there- he’d done it! He saved them, and he never had to worry about the Beldam again! He looked at the window of his room, only to see a disgruntled-looking Lil Bulb standing on the sill with his arms crossed.  He opened the window.

“Still mad?” he guessed.  Lil Bulb didn’t respond.  “I’m sorry I threw you at her.  It was all I could do.”  The robot walked into his room like it was his own.  Dewey didn’t really expect anything else.

* * *

Dewey dreamed of four children, all with angel wings and halos, playing in a field of grass.  None of them looked at him, but he knew that they knew he was there.

 _“Get rid of the key,”_ a voice whispered in his ear.   _“There’s only one, and the Beldam will find it.”_

 _“Get rid of the key,”_ a new voice joined in.   _“Somewhere no one will find it.”_

 _“Somewhere no one will use it,”_ another voice said.

_“You can find a place.  I know you can.”_

* * *

Dewey shot up in bed, his eyes wide.  He looked at Lil Bulb, who seemed to be looking at the light bulb in his lamp.  “We have to get rid of the key,” he said, throwing the blankets off and getting out of bed.  He wrapped his hand around the key that he had fashioned into a necklace, throwing his door open and running to Huey’s room.

He didn’t bother knocking.  He burst in through the door and ran up to Huey’s bed, shaking him awake.  The eldest triplet groaned as he opened his eyes, lifting a fist to rub at one of them.  

“Dewey?” he asked.  “What are you doing? Is something wrong?”

Dewey nodded his head.  “This is going to sound weird, but I have to get rid of this,” he said, showing him the key in around his neck.

Huey yanwed.  “Isn’t that the key to that little door?”

Dewey nodded again.  “I know you won’t believe me, but I have to get rid of it but I don’t know where and you’re the smart one so-” Huey hit him in the face with his pillow to cut him off.

“Okay,” he said, sitting up.  “I’ll help.  What’s wrong?”

“I need to put this somewhere that no one will ever, _ever_ get it,” Dewey told him, waving the key around.

“Just break it then.”

Dewey shook his head.  “The Beldam could get it then.”

“The Beldam?” Huey tilted his head as he asked the question.

“The Other Mother,” he explained.  “She’s really called the Beldam.”

Slowly, Huey nodded, but it was obvious he didn’t believe him.  “What about the well?” he asked.

“The one in the playground?” Huey nodded.  “Great, let’s go!”

“Now? It’s the middle of the night!” the eldest brother argued as he was dragged out of his bed.

“It’s important!”

“How important?”

* * *

“That’s… a lot,” Huey said as they walked towards the playground.

“Yeah,” Dewey said, nodding his head.  “But once we get rid of the key, we can forget about the Other World.”

They walked onto the sand, heading towards the well and brushing sand off of the old well.  Both brothers let out a yelp when they heard a yell from behind them, turning to see Webby standing over a rock- one that she had obviously thrown- and Louie behind her with his hands in his pockets.

“What was that for?!” Dewey asked, his eyes wide.

“This metal thing was going to attack you,” Louie said with a shrug of his shoulders.  

“Metal thing?” Huey asked.  Dewey got closer to the rock and picked up a needle from the sand.

“It’s the Beldam’s hand,” he said, looking back at Huey.

“The what?” Webby asked.

“We’ll tell you later,” Huey promised.  “C’mon, let’s throw that stuff down the well first.”

Webby took off the throw blanket from around her shoulders.  They gathered the rock and needles inside of it, and Dewey tied it with the rope he had put through the key so he could wear it as a necklace.  All four of them threw it into the well before pushing the wood back over top of it.

* * *

Dewey looked from Huey, to Webby, then to Uncle Scrooge as he talked about the Temple of the Golden Cricket, a smile on his face.  Louie and Uncle Donald were still at their place by the windows of the plane- Louie looking outside and Uncle Donald sulking.

He wasn’t sure how he could have imagine giving this up for anything.  His family might have had its problems, but they were his family.  And now, they were heading to help another member of their family.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU belongs to heythatsdeep on Tumblr, who let me write this for it. I wasn't expecting it to take as long as it did, but then I remembered how much story is in Coraline. This is the longest one-shot I've ever written. The ending is a little iffy to me, but since it leads up to the House of the Lucky Gander, I can deal with it.
> 
> My original plan was to finish it tomorrow, but I ended up being sick so I was able to finish it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!


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